


Light in the Dark

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bruises, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Choking (Star Wars), Force Healing (Star Wars), HEA, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, No Pregnancy, Oral Sex, Pain, Palpatine is a creep, Rey Needs A Hug (Star Wars), Scars, Sith Rey (Star Wars), Smuggler Ben Solo, Smut, Snoke is a dick, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, Very dub con touching, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29921781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Rey Palpatine, Master of Knights of Ren, captures a Force sensitive smuggler, she has no idea of his lineage, nor will she succumb to the temptation of his taunting mouth.Those dark knowing eyes and newly formed scars identical to hers won’t sway her from her plan. If she must, Rey will break his heart to get him strong enough to deprive Palpatine of his vessel.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 13
Kudos: 52
Collections: Reylo Creatives: Anniversary Exchange 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MyJediLife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyJediLife/gifts).



> CW:// Suicidal thoughts, and canon typical violence.
> 
> I loved working on this prompt of Dark Soulmates - I’ve had this idea for a while and this prompt gave me the right push. HEA is there, but they have to work for it.

Something changed.

Pain woke him, waves of agony sending him crashing off the pitiful cot and onto durasteel. Screams tore apart his mind, the nightmare so real, he was surprised not having blood coating his hands. Instead, that scalding moisture on his skin was his own tears.

No doubt, another gift from the Sith Bitch who captured him.

Under the light of the pale moon they have been orbiting the last several cycles, Ben cradled his aching head in trembling hands.

They’d come for him. His parents, Chewie. They’d tear the galaxy apart looking for him. For now, he simply had to keep his Curse locked tight, and if she found a way to tear through his mind while he slept, he’d figure something out.

The screaming... the lone figure on its knees, a dark small frame inside a pool of crimson light.... the vision so familiar. As if he’d lived it once before, in a different life.

He knew this pain, not quite like this, not dialed up to this level screaming, but from before, back when he was a child. Before Luke tried to help, before Han Solo got Ben out of that camp with weird smells and pointless meditations.

His Curse still lived inside him, although now it stayed silent.The Skywalker Curse, the one his uncle both worshiped and feared, his father didn’t give a single kriff about but fought against with Leia at his side.

It was this Curse his captor wanted, the glimmer of strength she tried to coax out of him during endless training, days of forms and fights and burning flesh.

The forms reminded him too much of his uncle. The fights he enjoyed. Fists, kicks, blood and sweat, burning fabric and skin from the lightsabers they took from his limp hands after each training.

He didn’t fear his own anger fueling the Dark, because he grew up knowing love dulled the raw edges of his legacy. His parents crossed the galaxy many times over getting him the help he needed to be free. He feared no Dark, and he had no use for the Light seeing how that destroyed his uncle.

A part of him wondered if the Sith bitch knew love.She certainly seemed to love slashing his face with that crimson abomination of twin blades, just as she seemed to love singing the fabric off his body.

He had lost count of the days since they took away anything that could be used to scratch into the durasteel or into droids, but however long it’s been, Ben was still surprised she shoved him into a bacta tank each night.

The gift of pain from his most gracious host abating, he ate the nutrient-packed slop delivered every morning. Fresh clothes had been shoved right behind the bowl, the dark fabric rough on his skin, the leather wrappings supple. The first day, he used the belt to choke one of the Knights and was rewarded with her laughter. Soft and rich and eerily wrong under that horrid mask.

His body free of cuts and damage, his limbs used to pain, Ben waited for her, sitting with his back against the freezing durasteel, hands on his knees, relaxed and battle ready. The best part of his morning were those first insults, just to see how she would react. Maybe today he’d hear her voice again, carefully modulated steel sputtering indignation.

Stupid, baiting the monster who could Force choke him easily enough. Too much of his father in him. Or maybe, he felt....something... idiotic and forbidden, most likely curiosity. Certainly nothing more, simply a need to understand the weakness in this Master of the Ren, the black clad monster in a mask.

And glimpses of dark leather-clad frame, definitely female, definitely shapely, had nothing to do with his inability to keep himself from taunting her at every turn. No reason for dread to curl in his gut when one of the Knights—Vikrul? he didn’t catch their names amidst the beatings—showed up at what laughingly could be called quarters.

“Where’s The Empress of Darkness?”

No answer, and the dread intensified as they walked through the sterile corridors, the ones he’d memorized already. He trailed a little too close to the walls to see what he could swipe.

The Knight walked three steps behind, shrouded in silence. Far enough to react if Ben attacked, close enough to engage if he got a whim to destroy a console, or better yet, grab a blaster from one of the troopers.

Despite the dread, Ben chose to treat her absense as a gift.

He doubled over coughing, and when the Knight caught up, Ben kicked, right at the ankles, the weakest spot most of them never trained to block. A quick elbow to the gut—personal thanks for all the memories—had maybe-Vikrul doubling over, the Knight’s saber open for the taking. And maybe Ben couldn’t bring himself to cut the fucker down, but he was still his father’s son to conk the bastard hard over the head.

Then endless corridors, doors easily cut open, consoles and equipment sliced to spark, the smoke thick and acrid. Enough chaos would slow the troopers down long enough for him to get to a docking bay.

Somehow he knew, he always somehow knew where to run, his instincts rarely wrong, with that small exception of the last time. He cut his way into the launch area, already tasting victory, mentally running through potential codes he could punch into a Tie fighter, when something, familiar and scalding, flung him back.

The wall? Hard and unyielding as always whenever the Sith Bitch threw him. And it certainly wasn’t relief he felt seeing that mask, that cape swirling around deceptively slim shoulders, that lithe female frame cloaked in all black.

“You know what they say, Princess. When the monster’s away, captives will play.” Surprised his bones didn’t break, he hopped back on his feet, the stolen saber already pulsing blue and ready. “You going easy on me? Or are you finally softening up?”

Even as the plasma warmed his skin, he couldn’t remember anything his uncle taught him. Probably good, since nobody, much less a Sith,needed to know exactly who he was. As long as he kept the ignited plasma from cutting off one of his hands, he would be golden.

Yet the vibration of the Kyber crystal opened something inside him, something Ben wasn’t sure he knew how to close. And as the Sith Bitch flipped open her dual edged saber staff, one word pulsed through his veins.

_Rey._

_Rey. Rey. Rey._

“What did you call me?” Under the hiss of metal, he heard fear. Which he pushed further of course, he still was Han Solo’s son.

“Is that your name? Aren’t you a little Rey of Sunshine.” He gripped the lightsaber, although he stood no chance against the rapidly advancing nightmare of crimson blades.

Of course, he kept on talking. “Is that why you’re always pissed? Not getting enough light under the hood?”

No answer—which only meant he needed to step up his game. Withan ease that surprised him, he managed to avoid her blade,his strength somehow enough to knock her back. “Kriff, your poor parents, calling you that, when—“

_How did you know?_

In the crash of silence, her voice screamed in his head, stripping him of every thought, every barrier, seeking, seeing... The Falcon, Chewie, his parents fighting or embracing. The island, the ocean, a figure on the cliffs—

_No._

He had to get her out of his head, had to conceal the image of his uncle. With her mind drilling into his, Ben pushed back, hard, deep, relentless, ignoring the agony he couldn’t be sure was his or his, ignoring both their screams.

_Rey._

Now he knew.

That figure from his nightmare. Familiar small dot of black in crimson lights, curled into herself. Exhausted. Cringing against a blow that still yet had to come.

In his mind he saw her, that small frame beaten but not broken, gloved hands pushing her body up. No helmet. Just dark hair loose around a colorless delicate face. Beauty and anguish, both twisted in pain, radiant and haunted.

_Rey?_

She bared her teeth, eyes widening as if she realized he saw her. Those lips, bloody and cracked, parted, and through the agony, she shaped his name.

***

Something finally changed.

The Force had been right after all. Rey wondered why she’d been compelled to find him, this taunting smuggler more suited for charming his way across the galaxy instead of endless training with her Knights.

Not Kylo, not the name he gave them.

Ben.

That large frame she was often tempted into touching, slumped against the wall where she had thrown him for the second time.

_He is the one._

“The one?” He shook his head, those mismatched features pale, those eyes alight with smug derision. Somehow, that only made him look more handsome, if one paid any attention to such things.

“What are you mumbling about?”

Groaning, he once again pushed himself up. For all the times she thought about cutting off his tongue, for all the times she threw him at the farthest surface, he never once stayed down. For that, and maybe for the taunts, he had already earned respectful hatred from the Knights.

She watched him take a testing step, his body all broad shoulders and long lines. Maybe a part of her regretted honing him into a weapon. Then again, she had no time nor solace for regret.

_Ben._

He waited for her, that dark hair messy and matted around that glorious face, those lush lips peeled back in a snarl.

“Might as well take that mask off, Princess.”

“Ben.” Did it matter that she liked the way his name tasted in her mouth? “Or should I call you Jedi?”

“Fuck the Jedi.”

The way he said that word.... so ... filthy. Sometimes, during their sparring sessions, she wished she could touch him with her naked hands. But touch meant power, Snoke had explained that long ago. Same time when he explained her purpose.

Under that watchful gaze, she sensed hatred from him, his disdain almost visceral. In the end, he would need that hate to finish what she needed him to do.

So she took off the mask. Let him see her, let him see Palpatine’s new face, the granddaughter that shouldn’t have happened, the monster she already was and would still become. A vessel.

“As hideous as I thought.”

Despite the hurt of that, she laughed, bitter and harsh. Hurt? After Snoke ripped apart her mind, as he had done ever since “rescuing” her from Jakku, words no longer hurt. Only seemed fair that this man found her repugnant when she destroyed the beauty of him every day.

“Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

That full mouth twisted into an ugly smile. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t fuck you for all the kyber crystals in the galaxy.”

The barb? Perfect. So perfect Rey almost lifted her hands to the face, undoubtably blushing. And since he seemed to know the words hit home, that she craved a forbidden touch, she chose the only action she cold think of: she wrapped the Force around his throat and watched him struggle to breathe.

His mind pushed back against her, hot, furious, a wild sort of taste.

“Skywalker—“

“Solo,” he chocked out, genuine fear blooming in his mind. Not of death, no. Somehow he seemed cavalier about that. No, the fear came from that name, the legacy. The power.

 _The Curse,_ his voice whispered inside her mind.

“My Grandfather would be so pleased to find you.”

There it was, the hate, the horror. In that moment of their minds connecting, something opened between them, she sensed so much of him, she saw, she heard....

Someone, a child screaming of nightmares.When Snoke brought her to Exogol, she’d been that child as well. And even as empathy stirred, she was shoved out of his mind with enough force to have her flying. Her turn to smash into the wall.

The Force.

Bones screaming from the fall, she looked up at this man, this heir of legends that could finally put her plan in motion. A plan she buried deep in layers of hate, hate her grandfather and Snoke relished for the power it would give the ritual when Palpatine would enter his new vessel.

The thought of that gave Rey the strength to stand again. Relief that all this could finally be over. “You hid your talents well.“

“I hid nothing, ” he spat out with fury, as if somehow she had betrayed him. “But you can bet your ass I’m not turning to the dark.”

Why did she feel like this, as if she finally found what she didn’t know was missing, a part of herself she hadn’t realized was gone?

“That’s why you think you’re here? You think I’ll turn you?”

“Either that, or you just want another fuck toy.”

Kriff, she shivered at the word, and that narrowing gaze told her he felt that.

How?How was it possible?How did that push into each other’s minds connect them in this way?

“I don’t care which side of the Force you use, Jedi,” she finally said and used the last bit of her will to keep her body upright. That brief spark of elation fled, leaving behind her old friend, furious exhaustion. The same exhaustion when she hadn’t eaten after a long hot day of scavenging. The same exhaustion when Snoke would rip her mind to shreds and send her training despite the knowledge she had nothing left.

Before, The Knights hadn’t killed her only for fear of her Masters. They feared her now, for Snoke had kept his promise, made her strong. Afraid, awash in hate, but strong. But this man... He feared no one, seemed completely nonplused by any of this, Palpatine, Snoke, herself.

“You’ll continue to be known as Kylo.” Only a few more moments and she could collapse, could close her eyes and let warm water hide what once was tears. “You’ll continue to train, and learn the ways of the Force. What side you choose is up to you, R’iia knows I don’t care.” He scoffed at that, but she simply continued, tired, so tired now. “I’ll introduce you to my grandfather as my apprentice. And at that time, if you’re strong enough, you’ll kill me at the footsteps of his throne.”

Hegaped at her, this man with Skywalker heritage and lack of training. Her saber bleeding flames over her hand, she kept her gaze on his.

“Do we have an agreement?”

“Put down your lightsaber.”

“I will not fight you, Jedi.”

“I’m no Jedi.”

Arms screaming in exhaustion, she switched off her weapon and tucked it back into her belt. Those beautiful lips twisted into a smirk even as his eyes went soft. “Sure you wouldn’t rather keep me as fuck toy?”

She needed to fall apart, somewhere safe, in the dark quiet of her quarters. Away from footsteps of the Knights, the droids and the troopers who chose that moment to rush in.

Knowing they would pounce at the slightest hint of weakness, she used the last remnants of the Force to push them back, send them scattering to the walls. Maybe her knee did bend, just for a moment. Did he... did just move to stand in front of her? Defend her? Did that additional surge of power come from him?

“Idiots,” she snarled, once again safely behind the mask. “He could’ve easily escaped. Which one of you would’ve liked to explain that to my Grandfather?”

As their collective fear coated her skin in burning heat, she swirled her cloak around her shoulders so nobody would see her shaking underneath, and strode past them, her legs stiff, her breaths heavy.

_Do we have an agreement, Jedi?_

Somehow she knew where to send the thought, how to arrow into his mind, the walls he built parting for her as sweet as soothing water.

I’m no Jedi, the response bloomed in her mind.

_Sith Killer, then._

_Just call me Ben._

She let that sense of satisfaction carry her to her quarters. Somehow, she felt his gaze on her when she collapsed.

***

Nothing changed. Although, technically everything changed.

The dreams, for one, wouldn’t stop haunting him with endless dunes of sands and freezing darkness. Cries,so similar to those he heard in his head. That word, _legacy_ that he always hated, crushing and grinding until only a spark of light remained.

The trainings stayed the same—brutal and raw and callous, the Knights silent, almost companionably so. The Sith still put him through the paces, stopping just before ripping him apart, then getting him patched up at the end of every cycle. If she got frustrated he had no inclination for his Curse, she didn’t let it show.

And if, one time, he thought he felt her presence in the bacta tank after a particularly brutal takedown, when he was certain one of the Knights would sever more than just his limbs, that sense faded as fast as it came on.

That Knight didn’t come back for several cycles, although that didn’t stop the Sith from throwing him into the wall as often as she could.

Of course Ben didn’t believe her. Whether the offer was designed keep him compliant or gain sympathy, Ben didn’t know, nor did he care, although the thought repulsed him.

He lost count of how many cycles passed, neither the droids nor Knights forthcoming with conversation. He only knew the Sith Princess was getting frustrated each standard day, each time she pummeled him, each time one of the Knights had left him bleeding.

“You’re letting them best you.”

She towered over him, her lithe shape swathed in dark fabric and leather. He still didn’t acknowledge wishing to see that golden skin.

“Still alive, aren’t I?”

“Only because they’re holding back. Leave, all of you.” That last part wasn’t a shout and yet her voice made the walls shake. The Knights, obviously used to such displays, got the hell out.

“Take off that idiotic helmet.” He spoke before he knew the words, already regretting showing her a weakness.

“Why?”

“So I can see that pretty face.”

She started, stepped back for a moment. Another tool he tucked away, this misstep at a compliment. He’d have to push it further. And then he was the one struck dumb when she revealed herself again, the first time since the docking bay, her cheeks flushed, her lips rosy.

Several strands escaped the buns she used to keep her hair back, the tendrils softly curving over that golden skin.

“Why do you look at me like that?”

“Admiring.” Testing them both, Ben managed to gather his aching bones up off the ground. “You aren’t nearly as scary. If anything...,” he paused as if considering, and came to his full height. “One could say you look sweet.”

“Sweet?” Derision in her voice, and with it, a hint of something painful.

“Shy? No.. Tender. That’s it, tender. Who’d ever thought the Master of the Knights—“

He crashed again into a wall and couldn’t help but laugh despite the pain. “Who’d ever thought The Master of the Knights of Ren is sweet? You kiss their booboos? Coo at them when they get hurt? Sing them to sleep, stroke their—“

He dodged the furious sweep of crimson and rolled onto his feet. The saber, that brilliant blue, came alive in his hand before he even knew that he was ready.

“I promise you—”

The strength with which their weapons clashed sent thrill and pain throughout his bones.

“—Nobody—,” a slash and then a parry, the plasma sizzling with heat, “—calls me—,” she ducked under his weapon, “—sweet.”

He parried with a sudden influx of strength, and when he blocked the crimson blade again, tangled the plasmas, slid back and over...

To his horror, the sapphire flame sliced into her skin.

A catch of breath. Then silence.

Inside his head, the sound she made was muffled anguish mixed with triumph asblood trailed down that beautiful face.

He couldn’t focus with his vision going red.

“Kriff! Fuck! Let me see!” Despite her still ignited staff, he pried her gloved palm away, the cut bisecting the curve of her cheek. “Where’s the bacta patches? We get it on time, it probably won’tscar. The hell you’re looking at?”

She blinked at him, her body still under his hands, muscles coiled and ready. Not to attack, her realized. But as if ready to absorb a blow.

The thought churned in his gut.

“You do it.”

“Where’s the med kit?”

“No.” Somehow he could still make out words despite the roar in his head. “Heal it.”

His own cheek throbbed in sympathy, her blood dripping onto his black tunic.

“For fuck’s sake.“ He wrapped a hand over her armbands, tried to tug her after him. “I don’t know how do this the Force healing shit.“

“Just focus.” There, that voice, calm and commanding. “Call onto the Light.”

Because his head swam, his gut churned, he gripped her shoulders, despite the danger of the saber all to close to his hand. “I’told you, I’m not a Jedi.”

“You can still use the Force.” And she widened her stance, as if preparing for him to hurt or kiss her.

At any other time, a tilt of that chin would’ve been cute. Adorable, even. But not here, not with tears of blood on her skin. And because there was no time to argue, or rather, because he shook with some unnamed need, he pressed her back, two steps, then ten, crowded her against the durasteel. Breaths mingled as their chests rose in staccato rhythm.

Slow, his arms heavy, he lifted up his palm to cup her cheek. The cool wonderous sweetness pouring out couldn’t be his, and yet Ben pulsed with it, his Curse somehow a promise.

He saw things through that cool healing light. A girl, alone amidst the sands. A girl, amidst ruined cold tech, scavenging parts and pushing into crevices almost too small for her slight body. Searing sun and lonely darkness. Alone, always alone.

You’re not alone.

“Neither are you,” she murmured, her lips so soft and tender. Ripe for a caress, which he indulged in, trailing his thumb over her jaw, over the sweet bow of her lower lip.

The Light still pulsed from him, around them, inside her.

“Pleased with yourself?” Somehow that came out more amused than angry.If she shoved him, if she used the Force, he would’ve taken a step back, or most likely, crashed into the wall again. But this... He didn’t have a name for this, this swirling need for something he wasn’t meant to have. “Finally got me to use it. Happy?“

Except he was lost, lost for words, lost for anything but wonder. Because her lips met his, soft, hesitant, and warm, pliant and shy, so sweet he lost the will to do anything but taste.

She... trembled.

Ben didn’t know how he understood that, how he knew he’d been the first one to touch her , skin to skin. Somehow, the Force made him share in her sensations, the way pleasure sparked through her veins at the touch of his lips, the thrill when he cupped her neck, fingers skimming over her jaw, her cheekbones.

They way she loved how his hands were so large, even if his fingertips drew streaks of blood—

He recoiled, stepped back several steps and bent down to retrieve his kriffing saber.

“You don’t have to go to such lengths, Sweetheart,” he spat out, and fuck, could she feel his swirl of confused emotion the same way he felt hers? “Next time, just ask me nicely if you want to fuck.”

***

Nothing has changed.

Alone after a brutal training session, in the same quarters she’d been given as a child, she couldn’t keep the Sith Killer out of her thoughts.

He didn’t seem to believe her offer, but also stopped looking for ways to escape. And maybe she sought comfort in seeing him each training, despite the taunts, despite the refusal to use what was rightfully his.

Not once did he demand she take her mask off. And yet, she was hyper aware of the lingering touches, the way his hands sometimes slid over her limbs, trailing that cool sweetness.

The way his mouth lifted, just one side, a knowing grin she did her best to cover in blood.

He never the used the Force. Not against the Knights, not against her, no matter how hard she pushed him. And because of that... kiss—it was just a kiss, two people mashing mouths, just biology—Rey been hesitant to be alone with him again.

Dangerous to second guess at a time she could afford no hesitation. Keeping her thoughts hidden took every ounce of strength she had, and repeating the offer to the instrument of her vengeance would only shine a beacon on her plan.

Regardless if Ben believed her, she only hoped he’d come into his power enough to act when it was time. And after? Certainly, she didn’t care what would happen to him after. He had Skywalker blood, surely he could defeat her grandfather, now left without a vessel?

All she had was vengeance. And she wasn’t going to lose track of that because of humanoid biology. Those who touch you have power. At least in that, Snoke had been right.

Her body ached, but that was nothing new, nothing she ever allowed herself to complain about. Pain gave her power, rage gave her control, fine enough that when she finally earned the red kyber crystal, she forged it into a weapon nobody had seen before. It was that weapon she held now, the control absolute, as she brought the flame close to the tally marks below her collarbone. And just as she slowed down her breath, prapared to accept the pain, a frisson of... sweetness caressed her.

Pleasure.

A touch. Gentle glides over her arms, caressing the scars, ghost like and yet real on her skin. Light, so light, over her breasts, a sensation that had her all but dropping the ignited saber.

In the holo-mirror, her reflection stared back at her, wide eyed, the rows of scars for every day she remained herself nearly the same color as the flush creeping up her body.

The sweetness, cool and blissful trailed over her chest, over her collarbone where the latest row tally marks blazed incomplete, the sudden chill making her nipples harden.

Rey slid her own palm over her breast, not perfunctory like she always did when washing off blood, grime or ashes, but slow, drawing the sensation out. In the holo reflection, the scared woman with haunted eyes looked back at her with furrowed brows and lips parted in wonder. Unbidden, or maybe perhaps compelled, her naked hand slid down her abdomen, down to the apex between her thighs, the sensation so foreign, so addictive, freezing her in place and freeing her to feel.

Rey couldn’t help but gasp, and when the answering groan echoed inside her head, she knew. She kriffing knew.

No one would see mortification covered by the hastily thrown on garments, nor her furious blush under the heavy hood she kept low on face. No one would dare get in her way, not when she prowled the corridors, her weapon at the ready. Maybe her hand shook when she coded herself in, but at the moment, she was too shocked, too scandalized, too... needing something she couldn’t name, to notice.

“What are you doing?”

She coudln’t stop her voice from shaking, and the bastard didn’t even attempt to cover himself up. Beautiful in the pool of light, he reclined on that kriffing cot too small for him, tree trunk legs bare and thighs spread, his tunic crossed over his chest—a travesty because she would’ve loved to see him him fully naked. And those hands, destined to be the vessel for the Light, caressed his....

 _Cock,_ he supplied, right in her mind, and the accompanying grin nearly had her running back out the door into the safety of her quarters. _It’s called cock, Princess._

“What are you doing?” she asked again, although that part was painfully, beautifully, obvious. Each stroke of that large palm over his.. member.. sent frissons of pleasure into the junction of her thighs, a pleasure she had never known, a pleasure she didn’t think was possible.

_Poor little princess._

Mocking voice, so rough and dangerous in her head. _Never got yourself off, have you? Too busy being a good little Sith._

“Stop.”

He squeezed himself and Rey hissed out a breath at that strange wonderful sensation of ghostly fingers caressing what was rapidly becoming damp. “Stop that.”

“I don’t think you want me to stop.” Lazy, completely unabashed, he stroked his palm up and then down, and hypnotized, Rey coudln’t look away, couldn’t even consider putting up some sort of barrier to stop this onslaught of sensation.

“If anything,” he shuddered, and she couldn’t help but feel it too, “you want me to keep going.”

Slick. That’s what she felt, her folds got slick under phantom fingertips, a touch that somehow grew bolder, the caress more firm, as firm as his hand moving over his own flesh.

One of them, she wasn’t sure which one, groaned when he swiped his thumb over the tip, smearing something shiny.

“How,” she had to fight to keep herself buckling against the wall while he watched her with damning eyes. “How are you doing this?” Except her voice, instead of menacing, came out breathy, almost pleading for him to continue.

 _You don’t want me to stop,_ he whispered, dark and dangerous into her mind. _Do you._

And then...

The hand over his... cock.. slowed down, and she coudln’t help but whisper please, unable to control this wildfire of need.

“Seems fitting don’t you think? You push that pain on me, so I figure tit for tat.” Those judging, all knowing eyes watched her, as if expecting her to react.. to something... Some sort of taunt? How could he keep his wits about him with this bombardment of sensations?

Another lazy stroke over his shaft, then he moved lower, cupping the tender sack flesh below which sent forbidden jolts of electricity into her own damp heat.

“You like this,” he murmured, and with her gaze ensnared by his, the Sith Killer slidhis free hand under the dark folds of his tunic.

Somehow, despite the touch between her thighs, this new sensation on her collarbone seemed so much more vulnerable, so much more more forbidden.

“Don’t—“

A jolt, a pinch, right at the puckered center of her breast. “No? You don’t like this? Seems so much nicer then what you’re pushing at me.”

“I’m not ... I’m not pushing anything at you.”

“Sure, Princess.” Lazy, so lazy, as if completely unaffected by her presence, he once again closed that large hand around himself, pumped, slowly, up and down.

The corresponding motion felt like strokes, and when his thumb once again circled the tip, she felt the same answering motion. Over and around the most sensitive part of her, as if he somehow spread her open with his mind.

“There it is,” he murmured, alternating between pumping his cock and circling the tip, “can’t close it off, can you. Just like I can’t.“

“Stop this.” Except she didn’t move, didn’t come closer to him. The lightsaber, forgotten on the floor, painted her features in shadows and red.

“Your lips are saying stop.” And in her mind, his voice continued, _and yet your eyes are pleading for me to keep going._ “Say please again.”

“What?”

The strokes increased, the rhythm delicious. “Say please. Beg, Princess.” Then, in her mind, _Say please and I’ll make you come._

She had no idea what that meant, but he supplied images of himself spiraling into white hot bliss as he spilled into his own hand, pleasure seizing them both until she had no choice but to lean her blazing forehead on the durasteel, that wetness between her thighs the same as the glistening spent on his skin.

_Beautiful._

“Now you know,” he whispered, in a voice designed to be condescending but instead came out filled with awe. She coudln’t look away from that beautiful sprawl of a man watching her with damning knowledge.

“Would you like to taste?”

He knew, that kriffing bastard, he knew her every thought, even those she couldn’t put to words.

_I can taste you, if you want. If you ask._

More thoughts without words, images really, of him stealing between her thighs, her body open, vulnerable, completely at his mercy.

“I won’t ask.”

In her mind, the image of him lifted his head to look at her..

On the cot, that beautiful lush mouth lifted in a smile.

“We’ll see.”

***

Some things had changed.

He drove them both to near madness. She gave him no quarter, working him harder than before, doing anything and everything she could to get him to use his damned Curse.

I _can kill you without using it,_ he sent into her mind at one point, and couldn’t help but heave at the sudden onslaught of despair. His, not hers, at the thought of her proposed arrangement. Which he still thought was some sort of ruse, and yet the glimpses of her mind showed him nothing but resolve.

She never took her mask off around the Knights, but that no longer mattered. He sensed every one of her turns, every tendril of what he supposed were emotions buried under the burn of hate.

Except it wasn’t hate, not really.

Pain. Loneliness. Despair.

This strange unwanted understanding had to be The Force at work, although he never used Skywalker’s curse, not consciously. This felt different, so unlike the alien sensations from his childhood that sent goosebumps over his flesh.

This? More likegossamer wings brushing against his mind, an ache of something familiar and beautiful. Her physical pain came to him as acute as if it were his own, each hit of the Knights, each burning cut. Sometimes he wondered if she allowed her guard to slip on purpose.

In vengeance, he sent her pleasure, touching himself each night, sending the sensations to her through this strange bond between them. She never came back to his pitiful quarters, and he never gave her the satisfaction of letting either of them come. Which meant he trained with a perpetual erection, and luckily the long black tunic and leather wraps concealed his idiocy from view.

He figured it was only fair, although the wondering of what she looked like naked, drove him crazy. He had touched her without her consent, but that had been self defense against the nightly agony of burns she sent him. To see her without the shield of her robes... stupid romantic in him craved that as a gift.

If he drove himself half crazed with denial, the frustration he sensed from her was worth the never abating throbbing. And if she threw him harder, her moods darker, her fighting growing more erratic, that just meant his own brand of torture worked.

And in the dark of his own quarters, while he teased them both,he couldn’t help but picture her face when he came that first time, that rapture on her features, the soft part of her lips.

Not that he cared. Not that the strength of her called to him, or the hidden glimpses of her inner thoughts brought out every protective instinct he didn’t know he had.

The arrangement was a ruse, designed to keep him docile. He refused to consider the possibility she actually meant...that. And if she did, Ben certainly didn’t care. Just as he didn’t care that she left this day’s training early without a single word.

The agony splintering both his body and mind not long after she left had him crashing to the floor, open, defenseless. At the mercy of every blow.

Of course they ignored his gasps for breaths, just as they ignored everything but training.

He forced out a laugh even as he spat blood.

 _A new tactic?_ he asked her in his mind, even as he struggled to get up despite the screaming protest of his body. _You get them to beat me to the point that I won’t touch myself? You’re that afraid to ask me? Just say pretty please Sweetheart, and I’ll—_

More pain, this time with an acrid burn of terror, the horror so intense he doubled over despite the Knights surrounding him again. Something slithered across his mind, probing, seeking, disgusting and cruel and other. A face, sharp cheekbones poking at paper thin skin, hairless scalp above a flash of gold.

 _You._ That hiss reverberated in his head, a voice he heard before, revolting. _I’ve looked for you. Isn’t that clever. My own apprentice—“_

He did’t know who screamed, didn’t know which one of them had No ripped from their lips, him or or the Sith Princess, maybe both. He felt the jolt of igniting plasma scald his fingertips as that voice pushed into his walls, deeper into his mind, ripping through everything he had,before it just...

Cut...

Off.

_What have you done?_

Which one of them had said that? Which one of them lifted their weapon then sank into a fighting stance against a circle of enemies approaching? Which one of them parried and thrust, sapphire or crimson, against weapons trained on them both?

Which one of them gazed at the circle of bodies, possibly dead, certainly unmoving, when it was all suddenly over, both of them stained with sweat and blood, and maybe, their regret?

He didn’t know how much time had passed, how long he stared at the unmoving Knights, how long before he left the training room. He didn’t know why he didn’t head for the first escape pod, choosing instead to limp and clutch at durasteel when his knees threatened to buckle. Nevertheless, he made it to her quarters.

The doors opened for him as if by magic or the Force.

Under the spray of water in the fresher, he washed away the sweat and blood, grimaced at the new cuts over his shoulders, on his arms, different this time, not tight uniform lines that had appeared under his collarbone not long after he had been captured.

With the water a warm kiss over his bruises, he spread his palm over the wound on his thigh and sent a jolt of cool relief into his skin.

It wasn’t him that breathed easier when the pain abated.

And when the fresher doors slid open to reveal her wearing nothing but scars, identical to his but so much more of them, endless tally marks in uniform precision,he knew exactly why.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything changed.

Granted, everything changed the moment Rey decided to capture that beat down hunk of junk because of a feeling. Now, looking at him, beautiful and exhausted and bruised, looking at her as if he saw inside her soul and out, Rey Palpatine understood why.

Scars, several neat lines of themlined up over the his chest. A Force Dyad, hermaster snickered just before she ran him through with her bleeding saber.

“You,” she said, as if it was the only word that mattered. “He said he’d been looking for you.”

He shuddered, this man who never passed up an opportunity to taunt her, this man who infuriated her, challenged her, made her yearn for things she coudln’t have. Instead, those eyes, impossibly soft now, searched hers.

“You killed him.”

“Yes.” Then,“He saw my plan.”

That dark gaze narrowed. He could see into her mind enough to know the truth, and yet he didn’t push into her, didn’t demand answers she didn’t want to give. Instead, under the water, beautiful and scarred and naked, this man, Ben Solo, held out his hand.

She hesitated, just for a moment. Touch held power, and this, under water, skin near bared skin seemed... more intimate, more close, more... right than anything they’ve done.

Then again, time wasn’t exactly in her corner now that Snoke was gone.

So yes, she took his hand, let him gently lead her under the warm spray. Let the water wash away the tears and blood and sweat. Badges of honor, if the Sith had any honor left.

In silence, he stood in front her, somber and yet comforting, his skin branded by the marks she shared.Arms at his sides, one of his hands opened right where her own thigh throbbed with memory of a wound, now healed with just a sliver of tender flesh.

She winced when she lifted her own aching arms to wash her hair, then was shocked anew by his quiet, “let me.”

Gentle hands took out the tight knots, let her wet locks spread down, last of the blood washing away. Fingertips on her scalps, massaging, soothing, and even if the million cuts stung from the cleaning solution, his touch soothed all those feelings away.

She never allowed, never got close enough for anyone to touch her. Never let anyone see her this vulnerable, without her weapons, physical or those she built up through the Force.

His touch seemed different now, the reality of his fingertips over her skin more visercal then through their connection. Force Bond, Snoke hissed, and it was that sly smile of anticipation which pushed her to that final act.

The sacrifice of the guards, the killing of her master started her rightful passage as a Sith. Tomorrow, she would have to face her grandfather, and Ben would finish what she started. But right now, here, blood washed away from their skin, she yearned to touch this man, her balance in the Force. She wanted to touch him without that nagging doubt of regret about what would happen to him after.

“Is...” Would he want a monster like her touching him? “Is this okay?

“Yeah.” And he looked down at her palm over his wrist, her skin golden from years in the desert, his flesh pale as an Endor moon. “Yeah. That’s okay.”

His hand, giant in comparison to hers, slid over her forearm. That dark gaze looked at her, taking her in, and Rey allowed herself to do the same, marveling at the beauty of him, the lines of a warrior, the soul of a scoundrel, the heart of a poet.

Smooth and slick skin poured over durasteel-hard muscle. Anxious for more, she moved her palm up over his elbow, up over the biceps and finally over the tally marks that should’ve been healed in the bacta tanks but didn’t.

 _Force Bond. Soul marks._ Rey refused to think of any of that now.

Instead she ran her palms over the warm planes of his chest, spreading her fingers over the disks of his nipples. He nearly did this same, except this time, his hand went up to rest around her neck, a fingertip under her jaw tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

Slow, testing, he leaned forward, slanted his mouth over hers under soothing warmth. A brush of lips, a soft and silken promise.

Then deeper, rougher, more, as she slid her handover that abdomen chiseled from training, lower, until she curled her fingers around the hot throbbing length of him.

Doubt rose and quickly absconded—he must’ve felt that through the bond and placed his palm gently over hers to show her what he wanted. A stroking movement, up and down, firm and slow, with an occasional break in rhythm to caress the head. Just like before.

Pleasure, familiar now, suffused her senses, filling the crevices and aches. At times, she increased her speed, at times she slowed down, drawing out his pleasure, his desire for completion, commanding the rhythm of the sensations he shared with her.

When he spilled over her hand, the pleasure so bright and big, she caught a sense of rueful acceptance, a hint of words fleeting through her mind, something about edging and days and gratitude, but she coudln’t dwell on those, not when this beast of a man dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands so large they nearly spanned her waist.

Silent, he looked up as if asking for her permission. Even if she didn’t quite understand what he was asking, she nodded in response and—

Oh.

_Oh._

A small kiss just there, at the apex, a frisson of sparks. This time it was Rey who sent him the sensation, the Force Bond humming at the fusion of the minds.

Lips.. there. Hands warm on her hips, thumbs spreading and lifting her folds to open her, let her experience a new exquisite touch. Tentative, slow, he teased without overwhelm, building up something inside her, forcing her knees to weaken to the point where she had to hold on his shoulders and try not to scream.

Delicate, firm stripes of pleasure licked over her senses, her shattered breaths the only sounds under the water’s fall. Through the Bond, she might have heard words, something about honey and delicious and so beautiful, but she was too lost to dwell on them now, too lost to give them meaning.

Somehow... somehow she knew what she tasted like, the delicacy of herself almost real in her mouth, her hands slipping and sliding through his hair, over his slick skin.

Then... there, just a touch, a light probe of his finger at her entrance. Both of them marveled at the tight silken heat before the pleasure took a new edge, deeper, darker.She shivered as the sensation crashed and shattered, would’ve pushed him away except he somehow knew when she got too sensitive, stopping the ministrations with his mouth but probing her with his finger still, looking up at her in wonder as another wave of pleasure swept over her again.

 _Beautiful_ , she heard through the Bond, and had no idea which one of them said that. He was, though. Beautiful.

A warrior and lover, scoundrel and poet.

“I.. Rey...”

“We need to rest,” she said, afraid to break this moment. “We can talk after.”

He nodded, and in a gesture that made her eyes sting handed her a towel before reaching for another for himself.

She didn’t think to ask how he ended up here. How he knew this was exactly what she needed.

Snoke had been right about those who touched you wouldhold power of you.

As she lay down on her cot, secure and still inside his embrace, her back to his front, both of them wrapped in quiet solitude, she knew exactly what she had to do.

She simply didn’t know if she would have the strength to do it.

****

Everything had to change.

For the first time in how many cycles, Ben woke up content, satisfied, warm. For the first time in so many cycles, he didn’t war with the need to escape and the nagging knowledge of being exactly where he was supposed to be.

He knew now. He was exactly where he had to be. Reaching for her, his Dyad, he smiled,.. and found nothing. Nothing but fabric and warmth. With her scent teasing his senses, he reached out through the Force and exhaled in relief sensing her nearby.

He opened his eyes to see her standing by the window, the surface of the planet a white landscape of ice. Against the glow, she looked like a lush deadly shadow, wrapped in her Sith robes save for the hood. He never thought three buns pulled back in that severe style would be sexy.

“Come back to bed.” Bed, kriff, this thing was even smaller than his cot. And yet, with her in it, he might as well be in the lap of luxury.

When she didn’t answer, he reached out with his mind again, gently wrapping around her only to encounter a wall of lava. As if she closed herself to him, as if he were unwelcome.

Naked, both in body and his mind, he got out of her bed, searchedfor the dirty clothes he had discarded. She didn’t say a single word when he stumbled over a pile of neatly folded black.

A uniform of the Knights. He brushed against her mind to see if she had feelings, _something_ , about their deaths and once again encountered lava.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” he said, his voice coming out strange and gravely, even as unnamed despair wouldn’t let him breathe.

At the window, she shook her head, not bothering to look at him. “You have no choice,” she said, except the words came out stilted and resigned. As if the last few hours hadn’t happened. As if she didn’t lay in his arms, as if they didn’t give each other pleasure. As if the Dark and Light didn’t hum in balance through the night.

Again, he tried reach out with his mind, again he was met with a wall of lava. Fire, erected not to keep him out as much to keep her in.

He could break through, Ben realized. He could see how, and it would be so easy. So simple to push through one of those cracks of ice inside the heat, slip through, invade her mind. Force her to show him what she felt, why she was hiding.

Or he could simply ask.

“Rey.” Naked, clutching the black garb of her Knights, he walked toward her, his feet quiet on freezing durasteel. No frills in her quarters, no plants, no spare fabric. “Rey. We can figure this out. We can—“

“I need to inspect the progress of this station. You’ll accompany me as one of my Knights.”

Is this how things had changed? He killed them to become them? Or did she think this bond allowed her to have power over him?

He dressed as if she was no longer in the room, aware she probably could read all his emotions. _Coward_ , he sent her, and watched her flinch.

She strode out of her quarters never looking back, expecting him to follow. Wearing the dark robes of her Knights, he trailed behind her, tempering down useless regret not having touched her again.

She didn’t turn to him, didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t speak as they landed on the icy surface. Nobody paid him any mind as he trotted after her like a damned puppy, and Ben took the opportunity to commit the layout to memory. And if, every once in a while, he let his mind brush against hers, a subtle slide of gossamer wings through the Force, she acted as if she didn’t notice. At least she didn’t tell him to stop.

The station, built inside a snowy moon to harness its magnetic core, had the uncomfortable echo of a long past war. He didn’t need the Curse to sense the excitement from the generals, the bloodlust mixed with terror of her as they reported on their progress.

Surprisingly, and to his relief, she didn’t seem to care. Not about the thermodynamics, the propulsion, the sheer capabilities of yet another massive weapon. He tried to feel around her wall of heat, tried to see what she hid from him, tried to understand that finite resolve. Through the bond, he got a fleeting image of grief transformed into something she didn’t understand, an emotion not nearly as dark but just as fierce.

For once Ben didn’t lament what flowed inside Skywalker blood. The Force gave him this sense of her now, like something important was about to happen, something she had been waiting for.

And maybe, it was that same Force that had him turning into an adjacent corridor instead of following her, a corridor that seemed to be a viewing area onto a hangar.

Ships.

Dozens of them, hundreds. Freighters mostly, supplies coming in and ore sent out for processing. Some fighters.

He could escape, kriff, they both could. He could slide through the walls she had built around her mind and tip her into docile compliance until he got her out of this hell hole.

That snort inside his mind showed him what she thought of that, and Ben remembered that while she had blocked him, his mind had been an open holopad for her.

So fine, he made the offer, sending the image of one of the ships, a promise and a plea. In response he got nothing. Nothing but that same finite resolve, something that tasted of good bye. And with that, he sensed a familiar presence.

***

Considering the brutality with which her now dead master ripped apart her mind, keeping Ben out should’ve been so simple. And wrong, a thousand times wrong.

Rey felt the tentative brushes of his mind, the way he reached out to her, open, trusting. The untapped power surged and ebbed inside him, untrained and undirected and to her disbelief, mostly ignored. All that raw potential—the words Snoke used when he had brought her to Palpatine to atone for his failure—wasted.

Would she have ever found him if Snoke got to him first? Would he remain the same infuriating man she wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss or punch?

Funny, the ways the Force worked. Funny, how for the first time she had been tempted to deviate from the course she set all those years ago when Palpatine informed of her duty.

She wasn’t been born to be a vessel. She would avenge her parents death. And if before, she had no care what would happen to Ben after, she knew now she wouldn’t allow Palpatine to have him too.

Those glimpses of family, so painfully beautiful, ensured her Ben would be all right. It was that love that kept him safe for all these years, and Rey was certain all that love would keep him safe right now.

Those brushes of his mind,assurance he’d be with her, those were the aftermath of touching, a type of power she held over him that she would soon destroy.

Who would want her without her strength, her abilities, her bloodline? Even before, that Crolute she’d come back to kill had kept her fed for her nimble fingers and a small body capable to crawl through any jagged hole.

So it was with resolve with which she turned to face the white-haired man walking up behind her, and sadness she ruthlessly shutdown.

“Brave of you,” she managed through numb lips, “to steal from the First Order. “

He looked so much like his son, that same cocky stance, that same air of scoundrel. The softness was there, wrapped up in a tough shell.

“I came to see my son.”

“Your son is mine now.”

That smirk? Familiar enough to have her crying. “Don’t get to cocky.”

Behind the viewing windows, she all but felt Ben screaming in her mind, searching and breaking through the barries, both technological and Force-like she erected.

“I have no wish to harm your son,” she said, and couldn’t help but be amused at the man’s narrowed eyes.

“Han Solo.”

“I know who you are.” Even without glimpses of him in Ben’s mind, the older man with a small woman coated in that same untapped power, she’d have known him. Both of them. “Your son won’t be harmed if you can help me.”

A frown on that weathered face, something akin to pity.

And even as she expected rage—who had the right to pity her, the Master of the Knights of Ren?—she felt a tiny pinprick of emotion, luckily hidden under the shield of her mask.

“Help you do what?” The man said, coming closer, his hands loose at his sides. She’d seen that gesture too, just before Ben went for a weapon when she had first captured him.

“When this is done, you’ll take him far from here. Take him to someone who can help him close himself to the Force.”

“Kid can take care of himself.” Pride there, along with concern.

“He can, yes. You protected him.” And although nobody protected her, she had been grateful that he had his parents. Family. Love. All those things that would shield him from Palpatine’s poison.

Somewhere deep within the station, Ben beat into her mind and sliced his saber into unshatterable glass.

“I need to do this.” She gathered final remnants of strength. “I want to be free of this pain. Will you help me?”

“Listen Kid—“

She struck.

The laser blast singed her thigh, and the Wookie roar from below nearly split her focus, nearly had her lose the Force-grip on the man’s rapidly falling form. She did manage to send his consciousness to sleep,pushing him sidewaways onto a landings,his body crashing onto a console somewhere below.

Safe.

The splinter of her shields turned her vision red.

***

She ran because she needed to enrage him further. The frost in the air stood no chance against the screaming heat inside her veins, and Rey ripped off the helmet, inhaling pure crisp air for the final time.

Amidst the snow, amidst the gnarled tree husks that wouldn’t see another season, the Master of the Knights of Ren sprinted away from a man who refused to be a Jedi, and she hoped would neverbecome a Sith.

He had to kill her just the same.

The rage inside her mind, that was all him. The power of his fury, his need for vengeance, added fuel to his resolve exactly as she’dplanned. If he didn’t already know his father was alive, he would find out soon enough. For now, she ran.

_WHY._

The roar all but bled into her mind, the pain and anguish terrible and poignant. Wasn’t that lovely, wasn’t that right that he had someone to care about, someone he needed to avenge? Maybe, someday, he would understand her need for vengeance, for herself, for her parents.

Within the clearing amidst the trees, she faced him, her twin sabres out. Crimson plasma clashed with sapphire as he attacked.

_WHY._

He roared inside her head, the onslaught of his emotions and his blows driving her backward.

“You tried to kill him to get me to hate you?”

Harsh breaths across the hiss of melding plasma, horror on that fury twisted face.

With strength she hadn’t seen before, he lashed out with his saber, his attacks lacking precision and full of brutal strength. The Force hummed with each parry, each time she pushed him back, each time he thrust forward.

The wound from the blaster didn’t throb nearly as painful as his emotions in her mind, betrayal, rage, a shattered heart. She hoped someday he’d understand, that she did this to save him too. If he killed her now, with those who loved him near, he could be spirited away before Palpatine found him. He would be safe.

_No._

She heard his scream inside her mind and deliberately hesitated blocking his next strike, prepared for that burn of plasma. Forced herself to keep her eyes open so she could look at the beauty of himone last time.

A burn, into her lungs, her heart, her breath. Not plasma, not what she expected. His mouth, his warm lush mouth closed over her lips.

Anger, desire, love or hate, she wasn’t sure which one of them projected what emotion. Stunned, Rey lost herself in the kiss, the slide of his lips over hers, the demanding brutal onslaught of his mouth. She could end here, happily so, under the pressure of his lips, the way he stoked the lava in her veins into something other then hatred, something outside of pain, something dark and delicious, something that felt like.. need.

She couldn’t get close enough despite the weight pressing her down, her cloak a thin barrier between her back and freezing snow. The sabers, ignited and forgotten at their sides, painted his face in light, red on one side, the other sapphire.

The brief respite he gave her lips was far too long.

She didn’t want to waste another moment without that mouth on her, and would have told him that, except..

_I know._

Those beautiful hands pulled at her wraps, her belt, peeling her heat soaked skin out of black soul-sucking fabric. She did the same, ripping apart his clothes with shaking hands.

Then...

There.

So close, they could be one.Those dark eyes flickered up to hers, silently asking for permission.

_Yes._

“Yes.”

She expected pain. Wanted it. Craved it. Pain was the only friend she had, her most constant companion.And surely, she should’ve felt that pain with him pressing inside her, her walls slick and tight around the unreleting thickness invading her most private place.

Except he sent pleasure into her mind. _So warm. So slick. So fucking beautiful._ Amidst the heat of him, amidst the words and worship, all she felt was shuddering, shimmering pleasure, the Force—or maybe, his desire—crackling the air with surges of lightning accompanying every movement, every stroke.

She’d never known ecstasy like this, never knew her body capable of this exquisite tension. Bliss and need enterwineed, Ben moved inside her, his face awash with light, as she, in her dark wraps, rose up to meet him.

“Rey,” he murmured, so reverent above her.

She couldn’t help but tighten around the hard press of his body, clutch at him with arms and thighs to bring him closer still.

“Ben.”

His pace quickened, his breaths harsh in her ear.

“Come with me.”

_Anywhere._

There woudln’t be a place for her, she belonged nowhere. But maybe, she could go with him—

Those thick arms wrapped around her back to lift her, cradle her neck, envelop her in sweetness. Desire turned thick, heavy, as he moved inside her, invisible Force stroking a spot of bliss above where their bodies became one.

Sparks flew, spears of lighting she was sure would melt the snow beneath them. With each stroke of the Force over her sensitized folds, the movement of him inside her, the way his lips pressed words of praise into skin, a rhythm delicious as it was devastating, sent her tumbling to the edge.

_Come with me Rey. Come with me._

_That’s what it means_ , she thought and heard his wonder-filled laugh as she shimmered and dissolved, just as he peaked inside her, the pleasure coursing white and hot and sweet inside their veins.

She held him close, his hair soft and wet and cold under her fingers. When darkness came, that beautiful mole-studded face was the last thing she saw. Exactly as she’d hoped.

***

“We need a med droid!”

“Too many droids on my ship!”

So nothing changed.

With precious cargo wrapped in a wet cloak, Ben ran aboard the Falcon, her prone form still, her lips rosy and parted.

“Don’t ask,” he tossed out to his father, even as Uncle Chewie punched the consoles while the ice beneath them shook.

“Yeah, try that on your mother.” Han didn’t even turn around. “We’ll stop as soon as we’re clear. Maybe you’ll introduce me to your friend,” he added, meaningfully, and Ben fought to control the need to blush. “Now get yourself strapped in, gonna be bumpy.”

To underscore the point, the ground shuddered under the Falcon’s thrusters.

“You planted explosives on the station?” Sometimes, Ben forgot his smuggler father had also been a revered general.

“They have plenty of time to leave,” Han said, then added darkly, “Believe me Kid, your mother will approve.”

So Ben strapped himself in by the dejarik table, his Dyad’s weight solid and real in his arms. Since he threw both their sabers into the widening cracks in the snow-covered ground, he had no doubt she‘d pummel him with something sharp as soon as she’d wake up.

He let his mind brush against hers, a reassurance and a promise. For now... for now he was content to simply hold her, her mind dark and at peace.

He knew of Palpatine of course, but never felt him until now, when her connection to her grandfather had severed.

Simple, really. He poured as much love as he could inside her, light, dark, it didn’t matter. He had felt her mind snap and go limp,felt it the same moment both their bodies grew sated.

He would take her away. He would take her away, pour love into her and keep her strong. Help her fight Palpatine’s voice inside her head until they killed him.

When she stirred in his arms, he held her tighter for a moment, not wanting to release her, tempted to use the Force to keep her sleepinga few moments longer.

Those hazel eyes stared up at him in confusion.

“You’re safe.”

He sent the words as well, unsure how much she could understand. Same words his mother said after Han brought him back, when the nightmares wouldn’t stop and Luke refused to answer. When Han and Leia and Chewie traversed the galaxy to find those who would help him, his parents never leaving his side, showing him every day that he was loved.

“You didn’t...”

He spoke before she could continue. “Your connection to him is broken.”

“I’m still his blood.“

“Whatever your lineage, that doesn’t change things. We’re a Dyad in the Force. No one could break that bond except for us.”

She didn’t struggle in his arms, and for that Ben was grateful, grateful to cradle her body just as he was grateful to fill her mind with love.

“He won’t stop looking for me.”

“Galaxy’s big, and there’s plenty of adventures. If you want them,” he added, suddenly uncertain. To his relief, she didn’t try to move away.

“How do you feel?” He asked with the icy planet shuddering below them.

A tiny tear trickle out of her eye. He used a thumb to smooth it off her skin, marveling at the dewy texture.

“I feel,” she whispered, “Light.”


End file.
